


A Rhapsody in Glass | Hanamaki

by BlueSimba



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fluff, M/M, hanamaki needs more love, the meme king is upon us
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:33:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7835788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueSimba/pseuds/BlueSimba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanamaki feels the days drone on and on, but you're certainly something new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rhapsody in Glass | Hanamaki

In a lecture that no one wants to be at, Hanamaki’s propping his face up with the curves of his palm, elbow planted on a new, black desk. His mother would’ve reprimanded him in a heartbeat for his behavior (“Takahiro, that’s rude!”). Scanning the room, he sees that there are some students sleeping, especially on the left side tucked away in the corner, so he doesn’t think he’s _too_ rude.

He faintly hears the words “parsecs” and “parallax” murmured by his lackluster professor, along with the clicking of the PowerPoint slide. The PowerPoint slides are all white with the standard font. When the computer freezes and the slide fails to shift to the next one, his professor spends the next moments incessantly clicking the button over _and over_ again. The irritating clicks get to Hanamaki. After the storm of clicks, his professor seems to realize that it’s not going to solve anything. Low mutters about how perplexing technology is tumbles out of his professor’s mouth. 

Cold air-conditioning finally starts up, sounding like a boot kicking a metal tube with all of its thwacks. Unlike the desks, the air-conditioner is old and dying. It interrupts his professor’s shameless plug-in about the new book he wrote that’s supposedly groundbreaking. Hanamaki snorts, and he wonders why he signed up for this class in the first place (oh! It’s because of the supermassive black holes they’re supposed to study! If they keep moving at this rate, maybe they’ll barely make it!). The math isn’t hard, it’s easy, actually, but it’s boring. His professor, the way the slides are designed—it’s all so boring. 

Matsukawa is a lucky, lucky guy. Having been best friends throughout high school, it’s almost a sin that they aren’t taking all of their classes together. Before the semester started, Hanamaki decided to stack his classes instead of spreading them out. He reasoned that it’d be easier to bear the burden and go all day for a few days rather than go every day like Matsukawa. (He’s seriously thinking about going back in time and kicking his past self.)

The one good thing that’s come out of this class so far is that he’s gotten better at texting discreetly. Fingers moving daftly over the keyboard of his phone under the desk, Hanamaki’s making sure that the jackass two seats over doesn’t notice, because if she did she’d call him out for it. Sounds farfetched that a fellow student would rat him out? If you would’ve told him that when he walked in on the first day, he would’ve never believed you. That is, until a girl a row in front of her was caught and suffered an unreasonable amount of humiliation from both the student and professor. Yeah. A _major_ case of the holier-than-thou attitude. 

Feeling more sleep deprived than usual, he shuts off his phone (ending the meme war he was having with Matsukawa, thinking that he clearly ended with the superior meme), and decides that hey, others are sleeping and what the professor’s covering is easy. He’ll end up self-teaching later anyways, so why not catch up on sleep? He’s got classes after this one and needs to be well-rested for them.

Before his head hits the desk, he puts his backpack on the desk in front of him, carefully moving it so that it doesn’t cause too much noise. The last thing he needs is attention. Hanamaki dozes off shortly thereafter.

Completely missing how outrageous the material gets.

 

Hanamaki Takahiro isn’t one to struggle in class. 

But this.

_This._

He wakes up when homework’s announced. His professor’s voice is loud for once, and the blank whiteboard’s filled with symbols and processes he doesn’t understand. Staring at the board to try to make sense of everything (is that a trace of fear in his eyes?), he tunes out the shuffles of students moving out of the classroom. Even that student with the attitude’s leaving before him, which says something because she’s methodical in organizing her pencils perfectly, and she groups her colored binders (she has several for one class even though none are technically required) equally rigorously. 

Hanamaki wonders if it’s too late to drop the class. 

And is that a bright, white light he sees?

 

By the time he’s walking out of the classroom the hallways are empty, or nearly so, at least. The soda machine at the end of the hall revs when some guy puts pocket change in the slots. Close enough to being empty. His backpack is slung over his shoulder lazily, and one of the straps is ripped. Scribbles (from his own personal boredom) are drawn out on the surface of his backpack; one of this zippers is broken, too. He was supposed to go out and buy another one before the semester started. Needless to say, that didn’t happen. 

A laugh saves his eyes from glazing over as he mindlessly walks to the end. Hanamaki wouldn’t describe it as fairy tale-esque, or dramatize it in such a way that it’d be used in a cheesy romance movie, or say that his heart explosively yearns for it. He’s not the kind of guy that exaggerates the little things. But, as you ramble about something with one of your friends, briskly exiting the very same classroom he was in moments ago, he can’t help but notice how animated your features are. 

Slowing down his pace the tiniest amount (he’ll deny the events later on if Matsukawa somehow hears about them), he’s in step with you, despite lasting for short, fleeting moments. 

You break away from your conversation temporarily.

“Oh! Hanamaki!"

He’s not sure how you know his name (maybe it’s because of that icebreaker his professor had everyone participate in?). Wearing his impassive face, any sprinkles of surprise are hidden, and he turns his head to you, giving you his undivided attention. 

“Can you help me with the equations tomorrow? Our professor said that your work is the best.”

“Sure.”

And just like that, you resume the conversation with your friend, walking ahead of him.

When you turn around to wave goodbye to him—a small grin tugging at the tips of your lips—he gives you his signature peace sign. 

Okay, so maybe there’s another good thing that’s come out of this class. Maybe he won’t drop it. _Maybe._


End file.
